


Fish Out of Water

by goblynn



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: F/M, Friendship/Love, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 16,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblynn/pseuds/goblynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Picks up shortly after the events closing the miniseries; Cain, DG, and Azkadellia travel to the Other Side, waiting out unrest in the OZ. Life happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> As always, the characters you recognize are not mine. Would that they were.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are not easy after the Sorceress has fallen.

DG wasn’t the only one in danger.

 

The royal family of the OZ knew—as many others did—that defeating the witch wasn’t enough. Not everyone in the Zone had seen it happen, and too many would only believe what they saw with their own eyes.

 

For some, the sudden reappearance of a lost princess, long believed dead, to defeat and overthrow the old hag smacked of convenience. And what power could that whelp have used to destroy her? Something more devious was happening, and hidden away from the eyes of the people.

 

To others, seeing Azkadellia free was an insult, an affront to the memory of everyone lost under the sorceress’ rule. They wanted her punished—imprisoned, at the least; publicly executed, at best. There were not a few citizens working, furtively, to make one of those things happen.

 

~*~

 

When whispers carried word of the plot all the way to the palace, action was swift and sure. Azkadellia must be protected. Plans were made, ideas presented—most were inadequate. Too many uncertainties remained.

 

Then DG spoke up. “Why don’t we take her to the Other Side?”

 

Ahamo and the Queen looked at one another, their concern unhidden. The Queen replied first. “My angel, what do you mean?”

 

DG shrugged. “Let’s take her to the Other Side. It’s not like just anyone can create a storm and get through, right? So, we take her over there and hide her until this blows over.”

 

“The OZ cannot remain without a ruler—” Ahamo interjected.

 

“—then I’ll stay behind.” DG’s voice was unnaturally fierce.

 

“You’ve no experience, my darling—the people of the OZ hardly know you.” The Queen gripped her husband’s hand more tightly. “And who would aid Azkadellia in that world, if not you?”

 

“Father could do it.”

 

Ahamo shook his head. “DG, it’s been a long time…I’m not sure I remember enough to get by—not like you. And how would I explain suddenly reappearing? You—you have a life there you could step back into…”

 

“But—”

 

“He’s right, kiddo.”

 

DG turned in her chair, glaring at Cain, surprised that he’d gone against her.

 

The tin man stepped forward to stand just behind her, inclining his head to the queen and consort. “DG’s idea is sound. Getting Azkadellia to the Other Side could be dangerous, but if we get her there, she’ll be safe from most that would do her harm. DG’d be safe, too, and you’d have a chance at getting things calmed down.”

 

“That’s not the plan!”

 

Cain looked down at her. “Princess—I know this isn’t what you wanted from me, but you have to be safe. If you stay in the OZ, you won’t.”

 

“The guards…” she tried again.

 

“The men are loyal, and I don’t doubt they’d fight for you, but that might not be enough. Until we know how far this goes, we don’t know what we’re up against.”

 

DG frowned. Turning back to her parents, she asked, “So, just me and Azkadellia?”

 

The Queen looked to her other daughter. “’Dellia? What do you think?”

 

Azkadellia’s gaze traveled the room, finally settling on DG. “She’s right. They’re _both_ right. If we go, you have less to worry about—”

 

“We’ll not stop worrying, darling.”

 

Azkadellia held up her hand. “And it gives you a way to appease the people.”

 

DG jumped in. “How?”

 

Azkadellia smiled faintly. “They want me gone, right? Make an announcement, tell the people I’ve been banished.”

 

“What about DG?” Cain’s voice carried an edge.

 

Azkadellia shrugged. “I don’t know.” She looked to her parents. “Would anyone believe that she wanted to come with me?”

 

The queen pondered the thought a moment. “It might work. Ahamo, do you agree?”

 

He nodded. “Even so, how long must the banishment last?”

 

DG smiled. “As long as it takes?”

 

Ahamo shook his head. “We can send for you when it’s safe. But how will you survive?”

 

“I’ve served up enough eggs in a basket for a lifetime. I could do it in my sleep.” The room was quiet. She huffed. “I’ll get a job. Like before.”

 

Cain’s hand came down on her shoulder. “I’m coming with you.”

 

Ahamo and the queen looked at Cain, faces unreadable.

 

He didn’t flinch. “They’ll need protecting.”

 

The queen looked down at her hand, entwined with her husband’s. She said nothing for a moment, her eyelids fluttering as though blinking back tears. When she lifted her head, her eyes shone. “Go, with my blessing.”

 

Cain nodded, turning to take his leave.

 

“Tin man.”

 

He stopped, looking back over his shoulder. DG and Azkadellia glanced at one another.

 

The queen tried to smile. “Take care of my girls.”


	2. Day Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“How do you start this thing?”

 

DG grinned, hoisting herself up onto the tractor’s side, clinging to the roll bar behind Cain’s back. “That,” she pointed, “is the clutch. Put your foot on the pedal and press it all the way to the floor. Hold it—okay, this is the parking brake.” Her hand hovered over the lever. “Don’t touch it, yet. I’m just showing you what goes where.” She pointed, again. “Press that button—that’s the ignition.” She flashed a quick smile at him. “That’s what actually turns this thing on. You just have to remember to keep that pedal down, or it won’t start.”

 

She leaned back, motioning for him to give it a try. Cain pressed the ignition button and the tractor rumbled and shook, coming to life. DG drew in, close to his ear, trying not to shout at him. “Okay, if you let off that pedal too quick, the tractor’s gonna jump forward, so don’t. Slow and easy, got it?”

 

He nodded.

 

DG leaned against him, resting lightly against his shoulder as she reached between his legs, grabbing the shifter. “This is the hard part.”

 

Cain glanced at her, eyes questioning.

 

DG shrugged. “It takes some practice to use a stick.”

 

His brow furrowed.

 

“This,” she rattled the shifter in place, “is the stick. You use it to change gears, that and the throttle control speed. If you leave it in neutral,” she pulled the stick back, freeing it, “you can set the brake”—she pointed at the lever, again—“and take your foot off the clutch. Now, the toughest part is changing gears while you’re moving.” She grabbed the stick, again. “When you’re moving, your foot is off the clutch—you’ll have to ease it off, or you’ll choke it.” At his blank look, she said, “That means you’ll make the engine cut off when you don’t mean to. Anyway, you’ll push the clutch in and move the stick to another slot.” She glanced over, confirmed he still had the clutch pressed down, and shifted the stick through the different gears, naming them off as she progressed. “First is up here—pull back for second, and when you want third, you have to kind of slide it a little to the right and push forward, again. Fourth is like second, just pull it back.”

 

She pulled the stick back, the awkward angle pressing her arm fully against his chest, and _lower_. The moment her wrist made contact, she let go of the shifter like she’d been burned. Cain’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t look at her.

 

DG opened her mouth to apologize, but stopped short, pulling away and hopping down from the tractor. She didn’t look up at him, keeping her eyes at his knees and waving him on. “Go ahead, give it a shot.”

 

He nodded, and she could practically see him running through the steps in his head before he made a move. His foot eased off the clutch, and the engine sputtered and died.

 

She tried not to laugh. “I’m sorry!—you have to put it back in first. And don’t forget the brake.”

 

He grabbed the stick and moved it to the correct position, pressed the ignition button, and the tractor roared. Cain released the brake, raised his foot ever-so-slightly, and the tractor rolled forward.

 

DG shouted, “Yes! Keep going, go!”

 

Cain smiled, and before she knew it, he was trundling across the field. DG ran alongside, laughing. He managed to get into fourth gear and pulled away from her, one hand up in a salute as he left her behind, making a large circuit in the grass.

 

DG turned, heading back to the house, and debating whether to tell Dellie what had happened. She was still mortified. It wasn’t like she was _trying_ to cop a feel, but this was Cain. _Cain_. He of the hey-there-princess-but-don’t-hug-me sensibilities. She could only imagine what went through his mind.

 

The sound of the tractor was louder, louder and _behind_ her, and she spun around. Cain was bearing down on her, eyes wide. She stumbled backwards and he turned the wheel suddenly, lurching past her, yelling.

 

“How do I _stop_ it?!”

 

She froze, then clamped a hand over her mouth. She choked back a laugh, her heart still pounding, and darted after him. “The brakes!” She was pointing, “The pedals on the other side!”

 

Cain stomped down, and the tractor jerked to a stop. He slid forward, into the steering wheel, and groaned.

 

“Cain!” She touched his leg. “Oh my god, are you okay? I forgot to tell you to buckle up!”

 

He held up a hand, silencing her, and slowly sat up. His hand went to his chest; wincing, he nodded. “Lived through worse.”

 

She grabbed his arm, steadying him as he climbed down. “Yeah, until you _don’t_. Are you sure you’re okay? That hurts, I should know.”

 

He waved her off. “I’m fine.”

 

DG backed away. “Okay.”

 

He didn’t look at her.

 

“I’m…going inside. Dellie might need some help.” She hurried away.

 

~*~

 

“Dellie?”

 

Her sister’s voice rang out from the other room. “Kitchen!”

 

DG found Azkadellia at the table, snapping beans, and grinned. “Don’t you look domestic.”

 

Azkadellia rolled her eyes. “Well, somebody had to do it, and you’ve been at that restaurant all day.”

 

DG sat down. “Hey, I’m lucky they gave me my job back. It wasn’t easy trying to explain away almost a month of my life.”

 

“They actually believed the story about the storm?”

 

DG grabbed up some beans, starting a small pile on the table. “Looks like it. I figure by the time they start missing my paren—the robots—we’ll be long gone.”

 

Azkadellia frowned. “Won’t they think the worst?”

 

DG shrugged. “Probably think I murdered them, or something.”

 

“DG!”

 

“What?” The younger woman shrugged, again. “It’s not like I can explain.” She snapped the next bean vehemently. “I can’t explain _anything_. We all disappeared, and then I show up with the two of you, passing _you_ off as a cousin _nobody’s_ heard of, and convincing them Cain’s a hired hand. That _I_ have to teach to drive a tractor.” DG dropped her head in her hands. “I half expect Officer Gulch to show up with a warrant any day now.”

 

Her sister looked at her, wrinkling her nose in confusion.

 

“It’s been a long day, Dellie,” DG murmured.

 

Azkadellia patted her back, “It can’t have been all that bad. Want to talk about it?”

 

“No,” she lifted her head and gave a half-smile, “but thank you.”


	3. Day Twenty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“I’m not sure, Mrs. Norman. Popsicle’s mom is in really bad shape, and I think they’re staying in Mississippi until—well, as long as she lasts.”

 

“That’s awfully good of them. So many young folk forget about their elders, these days.”

 

DG made an appropriately disappointed face. “That’s so true, Mrs. Norman.”

 

“And it’s so good of you to come back and work the farm while they’re away. I take it the repairs are all done?”

 

“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Cain has been a huge help in getting things back in shape. Mom said it’s been a weight off her mind.”

 

“So sad what happened to your family—first that storm, then your grandmother’s illness…” She paused. “And what’s this I hear about a cousin coming to visit?”

 

DG winced. “Dellie. She’s my dad’s…cousin’s…girl.”

 

“Second cousin, then? I can never keep that straight.”

 

“I think so, Mrs. Norman. I’ve never been very good at it, either.”

 

Mrs. Norman looked across the yard, just as Cain rode up on a pretty strawberry roan.

 

“You don’t think that young man might want some more change in his pocket, do you? We’d pay him under the table, of course. I hate to bother, but Ray’s not as spry as he used to be.”

 

“I’ll make sure to ask him.”

 

Azkadellia smacked her in the arm when Mrs. Norman left. “Now your robot-parents are visiting sick relatives?”

 

DG tossed her hair over her shoulder, dumping tomatoes in the sink and turning on the water. “I have to tell her _something_. She’s the biggest busybody in the county.”

 

~*~

 

“Hey, Cain?”

 

He looked up from the tack he was cleaning and oiling. “Yeah?”

 

“Old Mrs. Norman wants you to come by and do some work for her. She’ll pay you, if you want some money of your own.”

 

He nodded. “We could use a little extra, I think.”

 

DG waved him off. “You earn it, you keep it. You do enough work around here for nothing.”

 

“It’s not for nothing, princess.”

 

“Don’t call me princess. It’s _DG_.”


	4. Day Thirty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“So, that fella you got working for you…he married?”

 

DG stopped, rebalancing her trays as she pivoted on her heel. “What?”

 

Phoebe smiled. “You know, what’s-his-name. The cowboy.”

 

DG stared at her. “Cain? He’s not a cowboy.”

 

“Whatever. Is he _married_?”

 

“Oh. He…he was.”

 

Phoebe frowned. “Divorced?”

 

DG shook her head. “She died.”

 

At that, Phoebe’s hand flew to her heart. “Oh, that poor man! That’s awful.”

 

DG nodded, rushing away to serve her customers.

 

~*~

 

“How long ago?”

 

DG snapped her head up. “Huh?”

 

The other waitress sighed. “When did she _die_?”

 

“I’m not sure…a few months ago, I think?”

 

Phoebe stepped back. “Oh.”

 

“Why?” DG asked.

 

“Never mind.”

 

Phoebe walked away.


	5. Day Thirty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“ _DG!_ ”

 

She could hear Dellie shouting by her ear. Keeping her eyes on the road, she turned her head slightly, shouting over the wind. “ _What?!_ ”

 

“ _Slow DOWN!_ ”

 

DG laughed, never letting up as they roared down the two-lane road outside town. They blew past farmhouses and barns, silos and ponds, and rolled up to a stop sign in the middle of nowhere. DG barely hesitated, and the moment she kicked out into her turn, she heard the siren.

 

She groaned.

 

Dellie didn’t move, still clinging to her sister when Officer Gulch walked up. He glanced at her once before focusing on DG.

 

“So, DG…in a hurry?”

 

“Not really. Just out for a ride.”

 

He looked fully at Azkadellia. “This the cousin everybody’s talking about?”

 

DG and Dellie looked at one another.

 

“Um, yes. This is Dellie.”

 

He inclined his head in greeting. Azkadellia smiled briefly.

 

“Anyway—DG, did you even _see_ that stop sign back there?”

 

DG huffed. “Of course. I, like, totally paused.”

 

Gulch wasn’t amused. “It’s called a _stop_ sign for a _reason_ , DG.” He put away his ticket book. “Now, in the interest of being friendly, I’m not going to give you a ticket. _This time_. But if I catch you again, I’m throwing the book at you. Understand?”

 

DG nodded.

 

“Good.” He looked back over to Dellie. “Maybe we’ll see each other around. Or, uh, I might come by and visit, if that’s okay, DG?”

 

DG thought, for a moment, that she’d fallen into _another_ different world. “Uh…sure. I mean, you’re welcome to drop in any time.”

 

“Well, that’s real nice of you, DG.” He fell silent, then, “And, uh, if you don’t mind—I’d like to meet that hand of yours.”

 

DG choked. “ _What?_ ”

 

“That new fella. He seems…people seem to like him. Say he’s real nice.”

 

Dellia squeezed DG, but said nothing.

 

Gulch went on. “Heard he rides—that true?”

 

DG nodded. “He’s a natural.”

 

“That so. Well, uh, maybe he and I can…you know. Um, I best get back to it. I’ll let you ladies go on with your day.”

 

Dellia lifted her hand slightly, giving a small wave. “Lovely meeting you.”

 

Gulch smiled stiffly. “A pleasure, ma’am.”

 

He walked back to his car, got in, and pulled away.

 

DG watched until he’d faded to a dot in the distance, then turned to Dellia. Her look said it all: _Did that mean what I think it means?_

 

Her sister only smiled.

 

DG turned back around, shaking her head. She gunned the throttle, and Dellia screamed behind her as they bounced over the gravel and back onto the blacktop.


	6. Day Forty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

DG had taken to referring to her roboparents as FF and FM, or Fake-Father and Fake-Mother, respectively. It was easier than trying to accept them as anything else. And easier to talk about without confusing anyone about who she meant.

 

Azkadellia asked her about them, sometimes. Especially if she found something interesting in the house. School portraits, Christmas stockings, old jewelry—anything that caught her eye would be produced when DG came home from work, and the questions would fly. Problem was, what DG knew—or _thought_ she knew—about those things, she didn’t believe, anymore.

 

This morning, FF’s roan—the horse she remembered him buying, so she _knew_ it was his—was tethered to the fence by the barn, sleepily chewing some oats. Cain was doubled over, gripping its foreleg between his thighs and pulling the nails from a worn shoe. His jacket and hat were off, left hanging on a fencepost, his shirt-sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The morning light cast him in a golden glow.

 

DG watched him a little longer, before Azkadellia appeared at her elbow.

 

“Nice view.”

 

DG glared at her.

 

Her sister smiled at her over a cup of coffee. “The sky _is_ beautiful this morning, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes…it is.”

 

Azkadellia turned around and picked up another cup of coffee, pressing it into DG’s hands. “Here, take that to Cain, would you? He’s been up quite some time.”

 

“He has?”

 

Azkadellia nodded. “I’m not sure why. I heard him coming through the house before dawn. He hasn’t eaten, either.”

 

DG nodded, stepping off the porch and crossing to where Cain continued to work. She glanced back over her shoulder, and Dellia smiled sweetly at her before disappearing inside.

 

She didn’t get too close to the horse, and didn’t speak until he looked up from the hoof.

 

“Princess.”

 

“ _DG_.”

 

He sighed. “Did you need something?”

 

She held out the coffee.

 

He looked appropriately abashed. “Thanks.”

 

DG watched as he took a long draw from the cup, then held it for him as he resumed his task. She let a few quiet minutes pass, then spoke. “Dellie says you were up early.”

 

He grunted. “Got work to do.”

 

“We aren’t going to be here forever, Cain. You don’t have to work yourself to death.”

 

“Yeah, well, we don’t know how long it _will_ be, do we? Might as well keep busy.”

 

She watched as he tapped in the short nails for the new shoe. “Popsicle never did that.”

 

Cain cut a glance at her. “Who?”

 

“My FF. He always took Charlie to a guy across town. Said it was too dangerous.”

 

“He’s right. I make a mistake, this horse’d kick me. That’s something your…FF…couldn’t risk happening. Somebody would’ve figured out what he was.”

 

She fell silent.

 

He moved on to the other foreleg.

 

When she next spoke, the words burst out. “Do you think they loved me?”

 

Cain stopped, mid-swing, and released the horse’s leg, standing straight and looking her dead in the eye across Charlie’s back. For a moment, he just looked at her, that same hard set of his jaw appearing, just as it always did when he knew he was about to do something he didn’t like.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

DG came closer, stroking Charlie’s flank. The horse continued with his oats, ignoring the people at his sides.

 

“I just…they were all I knew. All I remembered.”

 

He kept watching her, his mouth still a grim line.

 

“Shouldn’t I have known? They weren’t _real_ , Cain.”

 

“They’re as real as you or me.”

 

“That’s not what I mean!”

He frowned. “I know what you mean.” He circled around Charlie, coming to her side. “How could they love you if it was only programming?”

 

She nodded.

 

He looked at the hammer in his hand, turning it in his palm. There was a moment before he answered her. “They loved you just like they were taught to. They didn’t know better, DG. They couldn’t help themselves. Loving you wasn’t a choice for them—you were their daughter. Don’t matter that they weren’t human, they loved you the same as any mom or dad would’ve.”

 

DG opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Tears welled up and she rubbed at her eyes. There was a dull thud, and then she was pulled close, tucked under his chin, one arm around her waist and his other hand cradling the back of her neck. He didn’t say a word, but let her cry herself out against his chest.


	7. Day Fifty-eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“Dellie, hurry up!”

 

“Oh, calm down, little sister—I’m just looking.”

 

DG stomped her foot. “You’ve been _looking_ for twenty minutes. If we don’t get going, we’re going to be _late_.”

 

Azkadellia put the dress back on the rack. “Very well. Can’t keep tall, blond, and stern waiting.”

 

DG smacked her arm. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“‘Hit me’, apparently. What was that for?” She swatted at DG and missed.

 

“You said—you were talking about Cain.”

 

“Yes, and…? Is that not allowed?”

 

DG turned and stormed out, waiting on the sidewalk while Azkadellia paid for her purchase. When she emerged from the shop, they fell into step together, heading back down the street to where the truck—and Cain—would be waiting for them.

 

“I can’t believe you accepted Gulch’s invitation.”

 

Azkadellia sighed. “What was I supposed to do?”

 

DG stopped, throwing her arms in the air in frustration. “Turn him _down_! It’s not hard!”

 

Azkadellia cocked her head to the side and shot DG a bored look. “I didn’t want to.”

 

DG’s mouth fell slightly open. “You _want_ to go out with him?”

 

“What I _want_ is to get out of the house. You work at the restaurant, Cain works in the fields. I work inside. _All_ day. _Every_ day.” Her shoulders dropped. “It’s a party, DG. He said lots of people will be there. And we get to dress up! Is that such a terrible thing?”

 

They stood there, just looking at one another, when DG suddenly turned and started walking away. “Fine. I can’t argue with that.”

 

Dellie darted forward, catching up. “Thanks, little sister.”

 

“But I’m telling you, now—I’m _not_ dancing.”


	8. Day Sixty-eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

DG crept up the drive, pushing her motorcycle along in the dark. She parked it out front, unhooking the bungee cords that secured a bundle of plastic to her seat. Circling around the house to the back porch, she slipped inside, easing the screen door closed and locking the bolt behind her.

 

“Where have you been?”

 

She yelped, backing into the door. “ _Cain!_ ” she hissed. “You scared the bejeezus out of me.”

 

He stepped from the shadows and into the moonlight. Leaning against the sink, he appraised her. “Go for a ride?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Been gone a while, DG.”

 

“I had something to do.”

 

He turned, putting his face back in the shadows. “Where?”

 

Her irritation came out. “In _town_.”

 

He made low noise in his throat. “DG, I’m here to _protect_ you and your sister. I can’t if you disappear.”

 

She threw the bundle at him; he caught it with no effort, turning it in his hands.

 

“I was buying Dellia a _dress_ , okay? I just rode a _hundred miles_ to get that at a Goodwill store. I spent all my tips today on that stupid payphone at the diner calling every secondhand store in _five_ counties, just hoping to find a floofy, pink dress for her costume. When I did, they told me they couldn’t hold it ‘til tomorrow. So excuse _me_ for not coming _all the way home_ to check in.”

 

She stormed past him and to the stairs, taking them two at a time up to her room.

 

His footfalls were heavy behind her—he stopped at the railing, not entering her space.

 

“DG.”

 

“Go _away_ , Cain. It’s late, and I have to work tomorrow.”

 

“Look…DG—”

 

“ _Go. Away._ ”

 

He came into her room, dropping the plastic-wrapped dress on her desk. She was sitting on the bed, knees pulled up under her chin. She wouldn’t look at him.

 

“DG.”

 

She shook her head.

 

“DG, _please_.”

 

She sighed, scooting over to make room. He sat down beside her, his long legs dangling over the side of the bed.

 

“Your sister’s going to be real pleased.”

 

DG shrugged.

 

“I just need to know when you’re going somewhere.”

 

She turned her head, looking at the wall.

 

Cain reached out, wrapping one arm around her. “I’m not telling you what to do, DG.”

 

She snorted, jerking under his touch.

 

“Azkadellia was worried.” He rubbed his thumb against her back. “ _I_ was worried.”

 

She finally shifted, leaning against him. “I’m sorry, Cain. I just wanted to make her happy. That’s all I was thinking about.”

 

He pulled her closer, lips against her hair. “I know.”


	9. Day Seventy-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“The OZ is a _storybook_?”

 

“And a movie. I’ll show you, later.” DG peered over her shoulder. “Will it hold?”

 

Dellia tugged on a length of fabric. “It appears so. You’re ready.”

 

“Good, because we need to go.” DG jumped off the stepladder, the blue gingham dress swirling around her knees. The dress had belonged to her FM, and they’d cut it short for a costume, ironing the hem into something presentable by using bonding tape. “Got everything?”

 

“I think so. How do I look, DG? Do I make a good Glinda?” Azkadellia twirled prettily, the old bridesmaid’s dress arcing out even wider around her. She’d styled her hair and fashioned a silver crown from wire and aluminum foil. Her wand was a wooden spoon handle that Cain had mounted an old Christmas star on, and DG had spray-painted silver.

 

“You’re beautiful, Dellia. Now, come _on_.”

 

They hurried down the front steps to the truck, finding Cain waiting for them, hands in his pockets and scowling.

 

DG stopped. “What’s wrong with you?”

 

He looked up. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” He pointed at himself. Straw was sticking out between the buttons of his shirt.

 

“It’s all I could think of that we could pull off in a hurry.” She hadn’t known how to make him into a cowardly lion, and there was _no way_ she was putting him in a metal suit.

 

He frowned. “Let’s go, then.”

 

The three of them squeezed into the cab of the truck, Azkadellia’s dress reaching one side to the other. The sisters giggled and talked all the way to the party; Cain was silent.

 

~*~

 

“Couldn’t find your ruby slippers?”

 

DG rolled her eyes. “They’re silver in the book!”

 

“What?” The other partygoer struggled to hear her over the music.

 

“Nothing!” DG doubted the woman heard a word she’d said. She went back to watching her sister charm the room. It’d been a while since Dellia had been herself, and this new world, unaware of her past, seemed just the right place for her to open up.

 

Gulch had already danced with Azkadellia twice, and though he’d approached DG, she managed to avoid him in the crowd. She could only hope he got the message.

 

She also hoped he didn’t cross paths with Cain, because she really didn’t want to see the fallout from that encounter—Gulch had shown up as the Tin Man. Several people had already asked if they were a group, others had tried taking their pictures, but no one seemed to have noticed a scarecrow was lingering outside the hotel’s conference room doors while everyone else celebrated.

 

Casting another look back at her sister, DG left the packed room to check on their guard. She found him in a dark corner by the pay phones, the entrance to the party in his sight-line.

 

“You okay?”

 

Cain sighed heavily. “Ready to get out of this ridiculous getup.”

 

She grinned. “You’re Glitch, by the way.”

 

“What?”

 

“The scarecrow. He doesn’t have a brain, and that’s what he hopes to get from the great and powerful wizard of Oz.”

 

“You dressed me up as a zipper-head?”

 

She laughed.

 

“I guess I should just be glad that headcase can’t see me, now.”

 

“Oh, Glitch loves you. And he’d be flattered. Rough and tough tin man, going incognito as the meek and earnest scarecrow. He’d be thrilled.”

 

“Yeah, well, don’t go telling him, you hear me?” The humor in his voice belied the threat.

 

“You’d better believe—”

 

A bark of laughter got their attention, and they both looked to the door. Azkadellia was in a throng of people—mostly men—wide-eyed, high color in her cheeks, looking…not herself.

 

DG grabbed Cain’s arm. “Something’s wrong. Somebody’s done something to her.”

 

Cain trotted over to the group, DG on his heels. Azkadellia was standing beside Gulch, leaning against him more than she should have needed. Cain pushed through the people, taking Azkadellia by the arm. “Dellie—time to go.”

 

Gulch put out a hand. “Whoa, there, buddy. What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Taking her home.”

 

Gulch laughed, a little too loudly. “Sorry, man—she’s already promised to come check out my room, upstairs.” Someone nudged Gulch in the side, and more laughter rang out.

 

Cain stepped closer, towering over Gulch. “I don’t think so.”

 

“A promise is a promise, man.” He smirked, looking Cain up and down. “Unless you want to come up, too? There’s always room for one more.”

 

DG could see the emotions cross Cain’s face. She knew what was coming, and shoved past the men blocking her way to the center of the group. She lunged at Cain, grabbing his arm. “Don’t.”

 

Cain tried to pull away. “DG, stay out of this.”

 

Gulch glared at her. “Well, look who’s here—the thorn in my side.” He gave her a once-over. “Not very imaginative, DG. You got the shoes wrong.”

 

“Dorothy’s slippers were _silver_.”

 

Gulch turned a funny look on Cain. “Oh, really? So, you’re a smart one, are you? That’s funny—I thought the scarecrow didn’t _have_ a brain.” More laughter.

 

DG tugged on Cain’s arm. “Cain, don’t. He’s drunk.”

 

“He has no right to touch your sis—”

 

“Cain.” Her voice was very calm. “He’s a tin man.”

 

That got his attention. “He’s what?”

 

“He’s a _tin man_.”

 

While everyone else tried to figure out why she was talking about Gulch’s costume, DG could feel the tension in Cain’s arm slip away. He stepped back, letting DG come between him and the officer.

 

She took Azkadellia by the hand. “You’re not taking her anywhere, Gulch. Not tonight, not ever.” She pulled her sister away from them, wrapping an arm around her waist and guiding her to the truck, Cain only steps behind.


	10. Day Eighty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“When do you think we’ll go back, DG?”

 

She shook her head. “I wish I knew, Dellie.”

 

Azkadellia sighed, “I miss home.”

 

DG looked around the house, the only place she’d ever known. Or _thought_ she’d ever known.

 

“So do I.”


	11. Day Ninety-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

She knocked on Cain’s bedroom door, handing him a paper bag from the bookstore in town. _The Wonderful Wizard of Oz_ was inside.

 

“What’s this?”

 

DG started backing away, a small smile on her lips. “It’s what this side thinks it knows about the OZ. I thought you might like it.”

 

He ran his hand down the cover, easing the book open and thumbing through the first few pages. “That’s real nice of you, DG.” He snapped it shut. “What do I owe you?”

 

She froze, smile vanishing. “Why would you owe me?”

 

“I know money’s tight, and I don’t _need_ this.”

 

She frowned, suddenly rushing toward him and grabbing the book. “I’ll take it back.” She tugged, but he tightened his hold.

 

“DG—”

 

“Give it back!”

 

He pulled it out of her hands, clutching it behind him. One hand went up, holding her back. “DG, stop.”

 

She stepped away, blowing a hank of hair out of her eyes. “Fine. Keep it.”

 

“I plan to.”

 

She turned and walked away, but he followed her down the hall.

 

“Talk to me, DG.”

 

“Don’t you have a book to read?” she spat.

 

He stopped. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

 

She spun around. “What’s wrong with _me_? What’s wrong with _you_?”

 

“ _I’m_ not the one—”

 

“I bought you a book. A cheap, five-dollar paperback, and you can’t even say ‘thank you.’ You just talk about what I spent. It’s _my_ money, Cain. And I know it’s all we have coming in, but it’s still mine.”

 

She moved to leave—he grabbed her hand. “Wait just a minute.” She jerked against him, trying to get away, and he tugged once, meeting her halfway and gathering her close in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

 

She stiffened, arms hanging at her sides.

 

He released her. “DG, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. It’s only…I’m here, around the house, and your sister and I see you come home every day. You’re dead on your feet, and you’re the only one who understands how this side does things. We can’t help you. We can’t make it easier. And if you’re worried about money, we can’t fix it.” He tapped the book with his fingers. “Thank you. I mean it— _thank you_. You didn’t have to, but it means a lot.”

 

“It was only five dollars.” Her voice was small, hurt.

 

“It could’ve been twenty platinum and not mean more.”


	12. Day One hundred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“I wish I was a better cook.”

 

“It’s _fine_ , DG.”

 

“It’s not supposed to be _black_.”

 

“If we scrape off this…layer…it’s perfectly fine. See?”

 

“Dellia, pumpkin pie isn’t _supposed_ to have layers.”

 

~*~

 

The fire crackled in front of them; Dellia was stretched out across the floor, her head in DG’s lap.

 

“This day of thanksgiving…I like it, DG.”

 

“I do, too.”

 

“You know what I’m thankful for, little sister?”

 

“What, Dellie?” She stroked her sister’s hair.

 

“Family. Freedom.” DG smiled down at her, giving her hand a little squeeze. “Second chances. Friends.” She grew quiet. “What about you?”

 

DG looked into the fire, thinking. “All those things, Dellie. Every single one of them.”

 

They didn’t see Cain watching them from the doorway.


	13. Day One hundred-and-sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“I need some money.”

 

DG looked up from her coupon organizer. “What for?”

 

Azkadellia blushed. “I want to buy you a Christmas gift.”

 

DG slumped down in her chair. “Why?”

 

Her sister sat down beside her, eagerly latching onto the topic. “I’ve been watching you—and I can see how much you like this celebration.” She pushed aside some flyers, leaning forward. “I’m not sure I understand everything about it, but I _can_ tell it means a great deal to you.”

 

“It does. I love Christmas.”

 

“What do you think? Would you like it?”

 

“I’d love it, Dellie.” DG chewed the end of her pencil. “The ornaments are in the shed, so we’ll need to get those.” She dropped the pencil, making a face. “But we probably _should_ buy presents first.”

 

The door behind them creaked. Cain stomped snow off his boots and stepped into the kitchen. The snow on his hat and coat began melting, dripping on the floor. He eyed the pair of them. “What’s going on?”

 

Azkadellia flashed a brilliant smile. “We’re going to celebrate Christmas!”

 

DG hid a grin, amused at Azkadellia’s very child-like excitement.

 

Cain frowned, stripping off his coat. “How so?”

 

“Well, I’m going to get DG a gift, and we’re going to decorate the house with some things her robo-parents left behind.” She noticed the water at his feet. “Oh…how hard will it be to get into the shed?”

 

“Shouldn’t be too difficult. The snow’s not coming down near as hard as it was earlier.”

 

Azkadellia turned back to her sister. “Should we get them now?”

 

Cain interrupted. “Just what is it you’re after?”

 

“Ornaments,” DG explained. “Christmas decorations my FM put out there when I moved into the attic.” She looked at her sister. “We’ll have to use a fake tree. There’s one in the house, so that’ll be a piece of cake. We should go ahead and get those ornaments brought in, though.”

 

“You might want to consider doing whatever it is you need to do in town, first.” Cain passed them, heading toward his bedroom. “You’ll be hard-pressed to get through as it gets colder.”

 

DG slid her coupons into a stack and grabbed her keys. “He’s right, Dellie. We shouldn’t be on the road after dark. You ready?”

 

She called out to Cain, in case he wanted to accompany them. When he declined, they shook their heads and trudged out into the snow.

 

~*~

 

Azkadellia’s shout was what brought DG to the living room. Looking past her shoulder, she let out a little “oh” of surprise.

 

Boxes labeled “Christmas” were stacked in a neat row in the center of the room, a bright red tree-skirt on top, a ratty artificial wreath leaning against the side. DG ducked under her sister’s arm and opened the first box. There were glass ornaments inside, cushioned in shredded paper. Some were a silvery color, others a milky white. Here and there she found one painted with bright colors, or shaped like a bird with little clamps attached to them, along with a couple of long icicle-like spirals.

 

“How did these get here?” Dellia gingerly touched a glass ball.

 

“Cain must’ve found them while we were gone.” She turned an emerald-green bird over, rubbing a spot that had worn off, revealing the silver coating within.

 

“They’re beautiful, DG. What do we do with them?”

 

“Decorate that hideous tree in the cellar.” DG put the bird back into the box. “Want to help me bring it up?”


	14. Day one hundred-and-twenty-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“You’re a man of many talents, Mister Cain.” Azkadellia nudged him with her elbow. “Where’d you learn to cook?”

 

DG looked up from the mashed potatoes, listening.

 

He was quiet a moment, slicing carrots. “My mother left us when I was eight. My father was too tired to do it when he came in from the fields…I ended up trying. Early on, much of it wasn’t fit for the dogs.” He paused, the silence drawing out between them. “Adora—when we…she cooked.”

 

Azkadellia touched his arm. “We all change in times of adversity. It’s a matter of how, and who we are on the other side.” At his questioning look, she grinned. “I’ve been reading a great deal.” She turned away, back to her mixing bowl and waiting pie crust. “Would you pass the cinnamon?”

 

DG attacked the potatoes with less gusto than before.

 

~*~

 

The evening sun faded, but the windows glowed faintly from the strings of lights outside. DG sat in the floor, close to the tree, her face turned to the fire. Azkadellia was curled up on the couch, feet tucked under a blanket. Cain sat in FF’s old recliner.

 

His voice rumbled, low in his chest. “She asleep?”

 

DG looked over her shoulder at her sister. “Yeah.” She leaned back, meeting his eyes. “You can head on to bed, if you want. I’ll take care of her.”

 

He nodded, pushing himself up out of the seat and disappearing down the hall.

 

DG crawled across the floor to the couch, face-to-face with her sister. “Dellie? Dellie, time to get up…I can’t carry you, y’know.” She reached up shaking her gently. “Come on, if you don’t go to bed, Santa won’t come.”

 

Azkadellia blinked slowly, before burying her face in the old throw pillow she’d commandeered from Cain’s seat.

 

DG huffed out a small laugh. “Dellie…oh, De-llie…wakey-wakey.”

 

Her sister finally pushed herself upright. “DG?”

 

“Time for bed, big sis.”

 

“Oh.”

 

DG stood. “Come here, I’ll help you. You’re still half out of it, anyway.” She grabbed her sister’s hand and helped her to her feet, then guided her down the hall to the front bedroom. Azkadellia crawled under the covers, very nearly asleep as DG tucked the blankets in around her.

 

Slipping out, DG headed back to the living room, kneeling in front of the fire. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small stack of pictures. They were of her parents—the people she’d thought were her parents—over recent years. DG’s graduation from high school, with the three of them in front of the school’s sign; DG and her mom, the day she got her license; DG and her dad, the first day she rode out on her motorcycle; and the three of them, again, six months ago, for no reason at all.

 

She wondered if they’d known time was running out.

 

DG took another look at the images, then tossed them into the fire. She watched the faces curl and twist, then blacken, before bursting into flame. They were only white ash when she pulled the fireplace screen across the hearth, blocking the escape of any wayward embers.

 

“You sure you’re not going to regret that?”

 

Her head snapped up. “I thought you went to bed.”

 

Cain had stepped back into the room. “I wanted to give you something, first.” He joined her at the fireplace, holding out a large box. It was neatly wrapped in red paper, a crisp golden bow on top.

 

DG looked surprised. “We’re opening presents, tomorrow.”

 

“I want you to have this, tonight.”

 

She stood, taking the box and going to the couch. He sat down close by, his body touching hers. She started tearing at one corner, glancing over to find him watching the fire. The paper fell away, and she lifted the lid, revealing a pair of riding boots. The black leather was sleek and supple, capped with a maroon band. She lifted them out, dropping the box to the floor. “Cain…they’re beautiful.” She reached down, yanking loose the ties on her shoes, and toed them off.

 

Cain put his hand on her arm. “Let me.” He knelt at her feet, pulling one boot from her hands and straightening the shaft. He cupped her calf in his hand, raising her leg enough to slip the boot on.

 

As he drew it up, she spoke. “Why did you buy me boots?”

 

He paused. “You shouldn’t ride in those.” He nodded toward her Keds.

 

“I don’t ride, Cain.”

 

He finished pulling the boot up, wrapping his hands around her leg and smoothing the leather from ankle to knee. He reached for the other boot, brushing her thigh. “I was hoping you might start.”

 

She lifted her other foot. He glanced up at her, guiding her foot into the shaft, and pulled it up. He palmed the leather, again, sliding his hands over her knee.

 

She leaned forward.

 

He didn’t move, his eyes half-shadowed in the room’s dimness.

 

DG was close enough to feel his breath, she had only to tip forward the tiniest amount—

 

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face against his neck. There was a brief hesitation, and he pulled her off the couch and onto the floor, her legs between his, her body pressed flush against him. She felt him press a kiss against her hair, something whispered—too softly, she missed the words—into the strands.

 

Cain held her until her grip loosened, and his arms slipped away. “DG…”

 

She met his eyes. “Yes?”

 

He faltered, then, “Happy…Christmas?”

 

She smiled. “Merry Christmas, Cain.”

 

The moment had passed. DG stood, turning her legs this way and that, admiring the way the leather fit to her so closely. “How’d you know my size? And where did you even _find_ them?”

 

Cain rose to his feet, still towering over her, despite the boots’ heels. “I took one of your shoes.”

 

She frowned. “When did you do that?”

 

“Last month. When you weren’t working.”

 

“You stole my shoes! I remember that—Dellie wanted to go to town, and I had to wear FF’s old muck boots because _my shoes were missing_.”

 

He smiled down at her.

 

“So, where’d you get them?”

 

“Mrs. Norman helped me.”

 

DG’s eyes went wide. “Is that why you’ve been over there so much?”

 

Cain nodded. “She called someone and asked to have them sent over.”

 

DG laughed softly. “Old Mrs. Norman is my Santa Claus, this year.” Then she jabbed him in the chest. “You, sir, spent _way_ too much money on me. We had a _limit_. And after the trouble you gave me over that book—”

 

He caught her hand, tugging her closer. “I told you I was sorry.”

 

She swallowed. “Yeah, well, you never told me how you liked the story.”

 

He was rubbing her palm with his thumb. She half-expected her magic to ignite from the contact.

 

“I didn’t like the ending.”

 

“Why? Dorothy goes home, back to her family. What’s wrong with that?”

 

His thumb stilled. “She left them behind—the Lion, the Scarecrow…the Tin Man.”

 

“Well, that’s only part of the story, anyway.” She spread her fingers, sliding them between his. “Besides, I brought my Tin Man with me.”


	15. Day One hundred-and-twenty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

Someone was in the bed with her, and they were putting ice-cold feet against her legs. She kicked back at them. Hard.

 

A girlish squeal met her ears. “ _Ow!_ DG, that _hurt!_ ”

 

She mumbled into the pillow. “Get your feet off me. They’re _freezing_.”

 

Azkadellia scooted closer, wrapping her arm around her DG’s waist. “I found my stocking, DG. You shouldn’t have!”

 

DG rolled over, nose to nose with her sister. “You like them?”

 

Azkadellia held up her hands, waving the fingers. She was wearing mittens. “They’re wonderful!”

 

DG laughed, pushing Azkadellia’s icy feet away a second time. “I should’ve bought you _slippers_.”

 

~*~

 

They prepared a small breakfast of eggs and bacon, but Cain was nowhere to be seen. When DG went to her room to change, she slipped on her new boots, allowed herself a few moments to slow her racing heart, and returned to the kitchen.

 

Cain was sitting at the table. He looked up at her entrance, glanced down at the boots, then met her eyes.

 

DG felt like she might need to step outside for a cool-down.

 

~*~

 

Azkadellia was…well, like a child on Christmas morning. DG tried to remember that this experience was entirely new to her sister, and _that_ reality was magnified by the reality that her sister hadn’t been in control of herself for most of her growing-up years. While DG was maturing and meeting boys, getting a feel for her place in the world—not that _that_ expectation was anywhere near how it turned out—Azkadellia was overrun by evil.

 

It almost surprised her how _normal_ Azkadellia really was.

 

She sighed, happily, and turned her eyes to the gifts at her feet. Cain had bought her a pair of gloves (a fact resulting in laughter when he opened his stocking to a pair of brand-new leather work gloves), while Azkadellia had made them both clay sculptures (DG’s, a model of the palace at Finaqua; Cain’s, a white horse). DG had been surprised that Cain presented her sister with a necklace, but pleased that he’d chosen something so fitting. She’d listened quietly when he explained to her sister that the little enameled butterfly was to remind her that she’d changed, and was something newer and more beautiful.

 

In the end, DG had given them each a hard plastic tube, settling back against the couch as they opened them and withdrew the canvas inside. There was a long silence as they examined their gifts.

 

Azkadellia spoke up first, her voice choked with emotion. “It’s us.”

 

DG nodded. “I wanted you to see how _I_ remember you.” She’d painted the afternoon at the lakes, when they had skipped stones. It was one of the nicer memories she’d recalled in those first days back in the OZ, and she hoped her sister could see her joy in the brushstrokes.

 

Cain was still quiet. He looked up, finding their eyes on him, and he displayed the canvas for Azkadellia’s view.

 

It was of him as he’d been the first night after the Witch’s downfall. The royal family had closeted themselves for hours, and when they’d asked that a meal be brought in, they’d also requested that the trio join them.

 

It had been a casual meeting, with DG perched on a lounge, her sister nestled between their parents, while the others were scattered through the room. Glitch had taken a seat as near to the Queen as he could manage; Raw was lingering to the side, eyes full of the happiness he felt in the room; but Cain—Cain’s eyes had only ever been on DG, and here the moment was captured in full. She’d seen, then, and had remembered, using that to create a portrait of him that showed the intensity with which he’d watched her.

 

He turned to her for explanation.

 

She shrugged, conscious of her sister’s _very_ interested gaze. “I remembered looking up, and you were there. You were always there, from the moment we let you out of that box, right up to the end.”

 

Azkadellia ventured, “And you’re still here.”

 

DG nodded. “And you’re still here.”

 

His eyes stayed on hers. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

 

DG felt her cheeks flush. “I know.”

 

~*~

 

That night, when she’d crept back downstairs for a slice of pie, he pressed the tube into her hand. “Keep it.”

 

“But I painted it for _you_.”

 

He turned his head, not meeting her eyes, and slid his hand into her hair, drawing her close to whisper in her ear. “I’d rather have _you_ looking at it.”

 

She skipped the pie and slept under his watchful gaze.


	16. Day One hundred-and-twenty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

DG had been driving FF’s pickup to work, not willing to risk taking her motorcycle when patches of snow and ice still littered the back roads near the house. It was slow going—the old truck didn’t like to run in the cold, and gave her trouble when she tried to start it. Tonight, it’d been worse. After a worrying ten minutes sitting in the diner’s dark parking lot, the engine finally turned over, and she headed home.

 

The headlights were dim as she turned down the drive, killing the engine not far from the porch. DG slid out, tired and cold, hurrying through the slush that seeped into her shoes. She flung open the door with a bang, dropping her bag on the floor.

 

Her sister met her halfway to the kitchen. “DG, what was that about?”

 

“I almost didn’t make it home. I’m freezing, and I’m tired.”

 

Azkadellia grabbed her hand and led her to the table. “Sit. I made soup from the leftovers—it won’t take long to warm it.”

 

DG laid her head on her arms, closing her eyes. She planned to eat, bathe, and sleep, with not much time between each step. The day couldn’t end soon enough.

 

“Mrs. Norman called. I meant to tell you.”

 

DG raised her head. “What did she want?”

 

Azkadellia shrugged. “Something about us coming by for a new year party. What does that mean?”

 

DG laid her head back down. “New Year’s Eve. It’s when people on the Other Side celebrate changing from one annual to the next.”

 

“Oh, we do that, too.” She placed something by DG’s head. “Your soup, little sister.”

 

DG didn’t move. “Can I just drink it through a straw? I’m so _tired_.”

 

Her sister’s hand brushed back her hair. “You want to clean up, first? It might wake you up enough to eat.” She took away the bowl. “I’ll keep it warm for you.”

 

DG pushed away from the table, forcing herself to her feet. “That’s a great idea. Let me do that.” She stopped at the door, leaning against its frame. “I’ll try to not drown in the tub.”

 

Azkadellia smiled sweetly. “I’ll send Cain in after you if you take too long.”

 

DG stuck her tongue out at her.

 

~*~

 

“—you okay?”

 

She gasped, sucking in water, then sat up, sputtering and coughing.

 

“DG? DG, answer me.”

 

She coughed hard and tried to speak, but the words were strangled.

 

“DG? I _will_ come in there!”

 

The doorknob rattled and turned. She gagged, leaning over the side of the tub, finally managing to talk. “No—”, she wheezed, “—don’t!”

 

The door clicked shut, tightly. She heard a faint thud against the wood.

 

Her sister’s voice carried from the kitchen. “Is she okay?”

 

Cain called back, “Yeah.”

 

She got out, wrapping a towel around her. She opened the door, just a crack, and he was waiting outside.

 

“Sorry. I fell asleep.”

 

“You scared me half to death.”

 

“Cain, I was just taking a _bath_.”

 

His eyes flickered down. She could feel water dripping from her hair, little rivulets traveling down her chest. “I figured.”

 

She smiled, despite herself. “You wouldn’t have come in.”

 

“What makes you think I wouldn’t?”

 

“Modesty. You’d send Dellie in.”

 

He exhaled, all his breath rushing out at once. “Don’t…just don’t do it, again. Understand?”

 

She nodded, grinning. “You still wouldn’t come in.”

 

He cut his eyes toward the kitchen, then folded his fingers around the edge of the door, forcing it open a little wider. “If—” He glanced at her, his cheeks pinking, then pulled the door closed.


	17. Day One hundred-and-thirty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

They were crowded together on the Norman’s front porch, waiting for someone to answer the door. A muffled exchange was heard within, and the television was silenced. Suddenly, the door opened.

 

“Oh, come in! Come in!” Mrs. Norman stepped aside and herded them into the brightly lit living room. “I’m so happy you could come. I was telling Ray it’s so nice to have young people visiting.” She turned to her husband, an old man with rheumy eyes and an oxygen tank beside his chair. “Say hello, Ray.” She didn’t wait for his reaction, but took DG and Dellie’s coats, still talking as she stepped into the spare bedroom to lay them out. The chatter continued until she returned, taking Cain’s coat and hat. “It gets so quiet around here since the children left home. Isn’t that right, Ray?” She left the room, again, briefly. “If you’re hungry, there’s some food in the kitchen; help yourselves.”

 

DG stopped by Mr. Norman’s recliner, talking loudly. “Happy New Year’s, Mr. Norman.”

 

The old man grunted, lifting his hand slightly in a feeble wave.

 

Azkadellia smiled at him, and he blinked at her, grinning toothlessly. As they entered the kitchen, they could hear him asking his wife for his dentures.

 

Cain whistled when they passed through the doorway, surprised at the sheer amount of food. “Are you sure it’s just us?”

 

DG waved him off. “Definitely. This is how Mrs. Norman cooks.” DG grabbed a plate. “She used to cook for her family and all the hands working for Ray, so she always makes enough to feed an army.”

 

~*~

 

They were lined up on the Norman’s couch, Mrs. Norman (“Call me Marilene, Mr. Cain, how many times have I told you?”) talking about their great-grandchild born not two weeks earlier. DG’s mind was wandering, and she couldn’t help fretting over what her sister and Cain were thinking.

 

They’d already been there two hours, and it wasn’t even ten o’clock. DG wondered how they would ever make it to midnight.

 

~*~

 

“I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Cain, for helping me get Ray to bed. He hardly weighs a thing, these days, but it’s still hard on my old bones.”

 

“Always glad to help, Mrs. Norman.”

 

“Tch. It’s Marilene, to you.” She patted his arm. “But it’s so nice to meet people with manners.” Mrs. Norman looked over at DG, whispering loudly. “He’s a nice one.”

 

Azkadellia poked DG in the side, eyes dancing.

 

DG wanted the floor to open up and swallow her.

 

~*~

 

Mrs. Norman had turned on an old record player. Dusty albums were retrieved from a closet, and Sam Cooke was working his magic.

 

DG and Azkadellia were dancing together, giggling against one another’s shoulders as they watched Cain lead Mrs. Norman around her living room. He was doing his best to ignore them, but they could see a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

 

DG was glad he could appreciate how ridiculous the evening had turned out to be.

 

~*~

 

“Oh, here’s one I used to play when Ray made me mad.” Mrs. Norman was queuing up another record, and she turned around, nudging Cain toward DG. “Here, you dance with her. I need to go check on Ray.”

 

DG’s eyes went wide, and Cain hesitated.

 

“Don’t mind me.” Azkadellia left, dancing her way into the kitchen.

 

DG decided she would kill her later—there’d be fewer witnesses.

 

Cain took her hand in his, the other sliding around her waist. They didn’t move, really, and DG was reminded of her senior prom and just swaying, pressed close to her date. She got a little closer, and the pressure of his arm against her back tightened.

 

She rested her head on his chest. “You really _do_ have a hold on me.”

 

He squeezed her once, hard, and she laughed outright.

 

~*~

 

They watched the apple drop in Manhattan, the reporter from their local Kansas news affiliate not realizing her mic was still on, so they got to hear her count down and cheer with the crowd, then mumble something before broadcasting the sounds of an enthusiastic kiss to thousands of viewers.

 

Azkadellia leaned against her shoulder, lowering her voice. “Is it always so…involved…for people on this Side?”

 

DG blushed. “Not really.”

 

Her sister hmmm’d.

 

She tried to not look at Cain.

 

~*~

 

They’d driven back in silence, the sky clear and glittering above them.

 

Azkadellia had rested her head on DG’s shoulder as she drove, already starting to nod off.

 

Cain was watching her from his side of the truck. “She’s like a kid, sometimes.”

 

DG nodded. “I know. I guess she never had a chance to grow up. Not the way she was supposed to.” She glanced over at him. “She was _supposed_ to have an annoying little sister hanging around. Someone to teach, to show the ropes. _I_ was supposed to tell on her to mom and dad, and make her angry with me, but still have her braid my hair and let me try on her makeup. I was _supposed_ to have a big sister to talk to about music and clothes and boys.” She swiped at her eyes with the cuff of her jacket. “We _both_ got cheated.”

 

“Did this help?”

 

She blinked, staring ahead. “Did what help?”

 

“Her banishment. Being here, the two of you.”

 

DG smiled. “Yeah. I feel like I have my sister back, like we’ve finally had a chance to learn who we are, and who we are _together_. I almost wish we didn’t have to leave.”

 

He nodded. “So you do plan to go back.”

 

She looked at him. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

He shrugged. “Life’ll be different back in the OZ.”

 

“I know. But we’ll be together.”

 

He was quiet the rest of the way home.

 

~*~

 

He carried Azkadellia inside, letting DG help her change and get into bed. DG thought about what he’d said, about how life would change, and wished they _could_ just stay here, the three of them, their own odd little family on the Kansas plains.

 

When she walked out of her sister’s room, Cain was waiting for her.

 

“How is she?”

 

“Dead to the world.” She slipped past him, heading to the kitchen. “I wish I knew why she’s so tired.”

 

He followed her. “She keeps early hours. Most days, she’s out on the porch, head in a book, before you’re out of bed.”

 

DG punched him lightly in the arm. “I work late.”

 

He feigned hurt, tamping down a smile.

 

DG poured some milk, leaning back against the counter, looking at him over the rim of her glass. He was watching her. He always watched her.

 

She set the glass in the sink. “What’s on your mind, tin man?”

 

He didn’t answer right away, just stood there, still watching. Then, “Home.”

 

“The OZ?”

 

He nodded.

 

“What about it?”

 

He left the doorway, coming to stand beside her. “What it’ll be like. What’s changed.”

 

She tilted her face up. “Has it been that long?”

 

“Nearly an annual.”

 

She looked startled. “Wow.”

 

“I expected we’d have been called back, before now.”

 

DG frowned. “Do you think something’s wrong?”

 

Cain shrugged. “Not sure. But someone—Glitch, Jeb, _somebody_ —would’ve contacted us.”

 

“So…it’s still Dellie?”

 

He sighed. “People don’t forget easily.”

 

“It wasn’t _her_!”

 

“DG…” He reached for her, his hand trailing down her arm and grasping her fingers. “A lot of good people came to harm under the Sorceress. You can’t blame them for hating the face of what caused their pain.”

 

She jerked away. “What about you? Do _you_ hate her?”

 

“That’s not—”

 

“You lost your wife, Cain. Your _wife_. And years of your life, gone—spent in a metal suit, watching one moment over and over, while your son grew up _without_ you.” She shook her head. “You have as much right to hate her as anybody.”

 

“I don’t hate her.”

 

“Cain—”

 

“DG.” His face was taut. “I _can’t_ hate her. She’s your sister.” He took a step toward her. “She’s _your_ sister.”

 

She wrinkled her nose. “So?”

 

He turned away from her, and they stood in the quiet.

 

After a few moments, she came to him, her hand slipping into his and squeezing his fingers. “Cain? What’s wrong?”

 

He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then soldiered on. “I loved her. I thought she was gone, and I wanted to die with her.” He swallowed, not meeting her eyes. “When I found out she was alive—nothing else mattered. Not the Sorceress, not the rebellion… _you_ didn’t matter. All I could think about was getting her back. Getting my son back.” He sighed, his whole body trembling with the effort. “I lost her. I never even got her back, and I lost her again.”

 

DG gripped his hand tighter. “I know. And I’m so sorry.” She held onto him in the darkness, wrapping her other arm around his waist and pressing herself next to his heart. “I wish I could make it right.”

 

He pulled his hand free, curling himself around her, his arms tense and almost crushing. She let out a small squeak of discomfort, and he relaxed his hold.

 

“You did.” He was whispering against her hair, the words tumbling out. “You did, DG. You make everything right.”

 

DG tilted her head back, trying to meet his eyes. Her reply was lighthearted—“I try.” It fell flat.

 

Cain started to pull away, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Cain?”

 

He was watching her, again, his too-blue eyes tracking every finite movement.

 

“Okay, can I just say you’re starting to scare me?”

 

“Never meant to.” He sounded tired.

 

“Yeah, well, you are.” She reached up, resting her palms against his jaw, a bit of rough under her fingers. “It’s okay.” DG returned the searching gaze, a boldness rising in her chest, and she raised herself on her toes, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 

He caught her before she could move away, snagging a hand in her hair, taking her mouth in a kiss that startled her and made heat bloom along her nerves. Her hands slipped from his face, arms snaking around his neck as she strained upward, her eyes fluttering shut and her mind focusing entirely on the taste of him, on the feel of his skin, how his fingers twisted in her hair, the prickling along her scalp driving the sensations up another notch, and then she was opening under him, lost in his mouth, in a wet, searing heat that consumed any thought in her head.


	18. Day One hundred-and-thirty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“So, what happened between you two?”

 

DG froze, looking up from her bacon to meet the curious eyes of her sister. She covered up her shocked silence by exaggerating a swallow. “What are you talking about?”

 

Azkadellia laid aside her fork. “Don’t be coy, DG. I’m neither blind nor stupid.”

 

“I didn’t say you were.”

 

“You’re avoiding the question.”

 

“I’m not _avoiding_ it, I don’t _understand_ it.”

 

“Oh, great Gale! DG, what happened between you and Cain? You danced together, you made eyes at him half the evening, he watches you like a hawk—” she held up a silencing finger, stopping DG’s protest— “and don’t say he does it because he’s supposed to, because he _never_ watches _me_ that closely. Besides, you barely said two words to one another yesterday, despite all the staring.”

 

DG blushed. “We weren’t _staring_.”

 

Her sister rolled her eyes. “DG—”

 

“He kissed me.”

 

Azkadellia leaned across the table, eyes wide. “And…?”

 

“And…I kissed him back.”

 

The eldest princess took her sister’s hand. “… _and_?”

 

DG sighed. “And then I went to my room.”

 

Two eyebrows were raised in silent question.

 

DG glared in response. “ _Alone_.”

 

Azkadellia smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

 

“I hate you.”

 

“You love me, little sister.”

 

“You’re never going to leave this alone.”

 

“You’re right. I won’t.”

 

DG stood. “Can you—can you just not say anything to him?”

 

Azkadellia’s smile faded. “I won’t, DG. I wouldn’t.”

 

“Thanks, sis.” DG pulled on her boots, heading out the door to make a run into town.

 

Her sister’s voice carried behind her. “I expect details, later. _Details_ , DG!”


	19. Day One hundred-and-forty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

She found him in the barn. He’d been mucking Charlie’s stall, the soiled straw left steaming in the wheelbarrow outside. The fresh bedding smelled sweet, pungent in the air, and she stood on a crate to peek over the wall.

 

He glanced up, catching her smiling down at him, and he stopped. “What are you grinning at?”

 

She dropped her head to the side, a light flush coloring her cheeks more than the chilled wind had done, and shrugged. “You, I guess.”

 

He huffed a small laugh and resumed scattering the straw in his arms. “What’s Dellie up to?”

 

“No good, as usual. She’s still giving me grief.”

 

He paused, looking up, all humor gone. “About…us?” The last word seemed a little breathless.

 

She shook her head. “Not like that. She’s teasing me.”

 

He cut a sharp look at her and finished his work. When the last of the bedding was down, he left the barn, bringing Charlie back inside and filling his feed bucket with warm mash. He brushed the animal thoroughly, ensured the outdoor gate was safely bolted, and left the stall, fastening the door behind him.

 

DG hopped down from the crate, plucking loose straw from his coat and scarf. “She doesn’t mean any harm.”

 

“I know.”

 

She looked up at him, trying to puzzle him out. “She’s not making fun, Cain. She’s…happy.”

 

“Are you?”

 

She supposed he meant to catch her off guard. “Of course.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, face pressed against his chest. “How could I not be happy?”

 

His hands came up her arms slowly, sliding over her shoulders and down her back. She almost purred.

 

“You’ve got the _best_ hands.”

 

His chest rumbled against her ear. “So you say.”

 

She squeezed him. “So I _know_.”

 

“Got a lot to compare to, Princess?”

 

She blinked, pulling back and staring hard into his eyes. “Hang on. Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” He didn’t reply. “Oh, my god. You’re asking.” She let him go, swatting his arm. “Can’t you just ask like a normal person?”

 

“I—”

 

“One.”

 

He balked. “One?”

 

“Yes, _one_ , you jerk.”

 

“DG, I—”

 

“What about you?”

 

His mouth shut, jaw clenched.

 

“Oh, no comment? What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, Cain. _How many?_ ”

 

He glared at her. “Two.”

 

She stopped. “Two?”

 

“ _Two_.”

 

“Wow.” She looked away, momentarily silenced. “Seriously?”

 

“Not something I’d make light of, DG.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not. I’m just…” she groped for words, “I’m just surprised.”

 

His brow furrowed. “Surprised?”

 

“Yeah. You’re…you’re a hot toddy, Cain.” She blushed furiously. “I mean, really. I would’ve expected higher.” He started to speak, but she waved him off. “I’m not saying you were _that guy_ , just…maybe a couple more.”

 

He stepped closer. “Never wanted any more, before.”

 

DG felt her face grow hotter. “Can I ask? Who she was—the first one.”

 

He sighed. “Clorinda Odensen.”

 

“Clorinda?”

 

He nodded.

 

“Pretty name.”

 

“Pretty girl.”

 

DG shoved him lightly.

 

He smiled, continuing. “She lived near me. We walked to school together, sometimes.”

 

“How old were you?”

 

“Seventeen.”

 

DG grinned. “How old was _she_?”

 

He grunted. “Eighteen.”

 

“Oh, an _older_ woman!”

 

He reached up, pulling her hair gently. “Hush.”

 

DG laughed. “So, what happened?”

 

He shook his head. “Her mother’s people were from a territory on the other side of the OZ. When her grandparents died, her mother inherited a store. They packed up and moved out.” He paused. “Clorinda was of age, but she liked the idea of going somewhere else, having a little money. I guess it was a sight better than settling down with a farmer’s son.”

 

DG frowned. “Her loss.”

 

He pushed her hair back behind her ear. “I met Adora not long after that. Married her, had Jeb when I passed my twentieth. You know the rest.”

 

She slid her fingers between his. “Derek Palmer. We were eighteen. He wanted something different and joined the navy. He never came back.”

 

His thumb stroked over her knuckles. “No one else?”

 

She squeezed his fingers, her smile returned. “I never wanted anyone else, before.”


	20. Day One hundred-and-forty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“Dellie?”

 

Azkadellia looked at DG’s reflection in the mirror. “Yes?”

 

“I need to talk to you.”

 

“What is it, DG?”

 

She glanced around the room, strangely nervous. “It’s about…getting married.”

 

Azkadellia dropped her brush. “ _Married?_ ”

 

DG threw up her hands. “Whoa—it’s not what you think.”

 

Her sister eyed her suspiciously. “Then what is it?”

 

The younger princess drew close, going down on her knees at her sister’s side. Their eyes met again in the mirror, briefly, before DG looked down at her hands. “Does it…is it a big deal, in the OZ, that girls be… _you know_ …when they’re married?”

 

“Virgins, DG. The word is _virgins_.”

 

DG flushed red to the roots of her hair.

 

“I take it, then, that you aren’t.”

 

DG nodded her head in affirmation.

 

Azkadellia sighed, stroking her sister’s head. “It’s important, mostly because of who we are. I think—if he already knew, you’d be fine.” She tapped DG on the crown of her head. “Cain?”

 

DG rested her head against Azkadellia’s knee. “No. I worry what Mother and Father will think. What if they expect me to marry someone _they_ choose? Or what if I have to prove it with a bed sheet or something?”

 

Azkadellia’s bark of laughter startled her. “DG, don’t be barbaric! Why in Ozma’s name would they _do_ such a thing? What sort of world _is_ this?”

 

DG smacked her arm.


	21. Day One hundred-and-fifty-seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

“I wish spring would come.”

 

DG looked over at her sister. “Tired of the snow?”

 

Azkadellia sighed. “Tired of the cold.”

 

Something in her sister’s voice seemed distant. DG stood, crossing the room and joining her by the fire. “You okay?”

 

Azkadellia shook her head. “No.”

 

“No?”

 

She looked hard at DG. “You don’t _have_ to be here. You’re not the one people hate. You were saved, protected…even when you came back, people were protecting you.” She pointed toward the door. “He followed you across the OZ, risked _everything_ for you, and when you brought me here, he followed you, _again_.” She turned back to the fire, wiping at tears. “I don’t have anyone, DG. The entire OZ hates me.”

 

DG’s voice was soft. “Not everyone, Dellie.”

 

“Mother and Father don’t count.”

 

“They’re not the only ones, sis.” DG slid an arm around her waist. “Cain doesn’t hate you.”

 

“Only because of _you_.”

 

DG made a little noise of frustration. “Do you remember, back on the tower—right after—how Cain and Raw and Glitch just _stood_ there? They didn’t leave, they didn’t run away…they didn’t look at you as anything other than Princess Azkadellia. They _knew_ , Dellie. They don’t hate you.”

 

“They’re only three people out of _entire_ kingdom, DG.”

 

“They’re a _start_.” She squeezed her sister tighter. “And who knows what it’s like, now, after we’ve been away so long.”

 

“I just want to go home. I miss the grass, the lakes at Finaqua…I want to see _two_ suns come up over the mountains, and Central City shine like silver under the moon.”

 

“There’s no place like home, is there?”

 

Azkadellia went still. Then, suddenly, DG felt her start shaking. After a moment, her sister laughed, tears streaming down her face, the happiness edging into sobs, then hiccups, before finally ebbing.

 

DG just held her.


	22. Day One hundred-and-sixty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian. This is the M-rated chapter.

DG was in the bathroom of the diner, filling a mop bucket with soap and water, grimacing at the thought of cleaning up the vomit at table four. She could still hear the little boy sobbing, his sister yelling about the stink, and their parents trying to calm the both of them down. The rest of the lunchtime crowd chattered, snippets of conversation drifting through the open door.

 

“—doesn’t have a bug—”

 

“—mess, it’s nasty—”

 

“—at that, who—”

 

“—never seen—”

 

She heard the bell ring above the entry door, and the rush of noise from the dining room was silenced.

 

The hair prickled on the back of her neck, and she rushed out of the bathroom, dragging the mop behind her, the bucket sloshing water out into the floor.

 

Cain was standing in the doorway.

 

She set the bucket down, dropping the mop where she stood. His eyes met hers. Before she could speak, he stepped aside, and someone else walked in behind him. She blinked, recognizing instantly the too-pale skin and wild mop of dark hair.

 

“Glitch!”

 

His lips curled into a smile. “Hi, doll.”

 

She ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. He grunted, smiling against her cheek, and squeezed her in return.

 

She released him, her hand still clinging to his jacket. “You look good.” She gestured to his clothes—the long, dark jacket swirling around his legs, gold braid crisscrossing his chest, everything neat and trim—and looked pointedly at his head. The zipper was gone, only a thin line of silver marking its place. “And…put together.”

 

“A lot’s happened while you’ve been gone, DG.”

 

“Mother and Father?”

 

He nodded. “They sent me. It’s time.”

 

She squeezed his arm. “How did you get here?”

 

Cain cleared his throat. “We, uh…drove the truck.”

 

DG looked at him, eyes wide. “You _drove_?”

 

“Yeah.” He glanced around the room. “And we should finish this somewhere else.”

 

DG followed his gaze. Everyone—the customers, Carter, Phoebe—was watching. She untied her apron, tossing it across the counter. “Carter, I’m leaving.”

 

The cook frowned. “We’re in the middle of lunch, you can’t leave now!”

 

She spun around. “It’s my parents, Carter. I’m _leaving_.” She followed Cain and Glitch out the door, stopping to look back. “Actually, give my pay to Phoebe. I’m not coming back.”

 

~*~

 

“I can’t believe you drove all the way out here. What if Gulch had stopped you?” DG glanced into the rearview, checking on her bike. “You know what I told you about needing a license on this side.”

 

Glitch patted her knee. “He was careful, DG. He knows not to draw attention.”

 

She frowned. “Cain hasn’t exactly endeared himself to the local law enforcement.”

 

Glitch turned a wide-eyed look on Cain. “Do tell.”

 

Cain made a noise of displeasure. “The man she’s talking about tried something on Dellie.”

 

DG felt Glitch stiffen beside her. “Tried something? In what way?”

 

She jumped in. “He got her drunk. I think he drugged her, too.” Her frown deepened. “She doesn’t really remember.”

 

Glitch stared straight ahead. “And what did you do to this…man?”

 

Cain looked out the window. “Nothing.”

 

“Nothing?” Glitch’s voice hit another register. “He makes—he attempts to—the princess! And you did _nothing?_ ”

 

“He couldn’t. We have to lay low, and if he’d hit him—or worse—they’d have him arrested. And then they would’ve found out he doesn’t exist over here, and _then_ we’d have an even bigger problem.” DG cast an apologetic look at him. “There was nothing he could do.”

 

Cain met Glitch’s eyes. “If things had been different, I wouldn’t have walked away.”

 

Glitch slumped beside her. “I know.”

 

They rode in silence, another mile of pavement passing under them. DG ventured a question. “What did Dellie say when you showed up?”

 

Cain answered in Glitch’s stead. “She hasn’t. He came through away from the house. I brought him straight to you.”

 

“Cain!” She leaned forward, slightly, glancing at him. “Why?”

 

He looked straight ahead, not answering.

 

Glitch looked between them, noting Cain’s clenched jaw and the flush that spread to his ears. The confused furrow of his brow dissipated into a small “o” of understanding. He smiled, dimpling. “I’m sure she’ll have all sorts of news to share.”

 

~*~

 

Azkadellia had nearly cried upon seeing him, rushing forward and catching herself at the last moment, allowing only her hands to drift out, clutching at his coat and bombarding him with questions.

 

He answered the last one first: “Tomorrow. We go in the morning.”

 

DG interrupted, eyes on Cain. “That soon?”

 

He nodded. “The queen feels a day on This Side should be sufficient to gather your belongings and settle your affairs.”

 

Azkadellia jumped in. “That’s more than enough time.”

 

DG’s heart sank.

 

~*~

 

She had packed up her artwork, some mementos from her life in Kansas, and a few pieces of clothing. Cain had been watching her all afternoon, trying to catch her eye, but she’d deliberately avoided him. She knew he wanted to talk with her, but she wasn’t ready for that conversation. Not yet—maybe not _ever_.

 

He watched her as they sat in the living room, darkness already fallen outside, and she tried to ignore him. Instead, she concentrated on the conversation flying between her sister and her friend. Where he permitted—almost insisted—on being called Glitch where DG and Cain were concerned, he was only Ambrose for Azkadellia.

 

“It’s how you knew me, and how you know me,” he said. “It wouldn’t feel right to try on another name with you, Princess.”

 

Azkadellia touched his arm. “I confess, I’m more than a little surprised that you’ll speak to me, at all.”

 

Glitch’s face softened, and he covered her hand with his. “I don’t hold it against you, Princess. You were as much a victim of the witch as any of us.”

 

Azkadellia swallowed hard and wiped her eyes, not removing her hand from his arm, and not leaving his side when DG walked out of the room.

 

DG wasn’t surprised to hear Cain’s footsteps behind her as she left the house.

 

He didn’t catch up to her until he reached the barn. She was sitting on the floor, her back against some hay bales, face buried in the crook of her elbow. He crouched beside her, his hand going to her back. She flinched when he touched her, shaking her head against the contact.

 

He sighed. “DG, what’s wrong?”

 

Her voice was muffled. “Everything.”

 

“I can’t fix _everything_. Care to narrow it down a little?”

 

She lifted her head. “I’m not ready.”

 

“To go back?”

 

She nodded. “Everything’s going to change. It won’t be Dellie and me and you, it’ll be _Princess_ Azkadellia and _Princess Dorothy Gale_. You’ll be…what? Given a medal or something, then shoved out of the way?” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I don’t _want_ things to change.”

 

He sat down, pulling her close. “I thought you wanted to go home.”

 

She sniffled, leaning against his shoulder. “That was before.”

 

“Before?”

 

She tilted her face, blinking away the last of her tears. “Before _this_ , Cain.” She gestured between them. “If we go back, what happens then?”

 

He caught her hand, studying her fingers. “I don’t know.”

 

She started pulling away. “I _do_. It’ll end before it ever really got started.”

 

“It doesn’t have to, DG.”

 

“What? You’re going to go to my parents and ask if they mind?”

 

He stilled. “Do you want me to?”

 

She began shredding bits of hay. “I don’t _know_. That’s part of the problem. We…we just got here—to this point, I mean—and over here, on This Side, we could take our time and figure things out. Back there…people will watch. They’ll talk. Everybody will know everything.”

 

“Royalty doesn’t get privacy, DG.”

 

“I _know_.” She threw the hay, watching it flutter to the ground. “I wasn’t prepared for this, Cain. My entire life—everything on This Side—I was told I had to learn to do things for myself. ‘Let me show you how to change a flat, DG, because you might not always have someone with you’; ‘You’ll need to balance your checking account, DG, because you can’t rely on someone to do it for you’…it was always stuff that I _needed_ to know.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “Now look at me. I’m twenty-five years old, and everything I know is useless.” She huffed out a half-hearted laugh, cutting her eyes at him. “I’m halfway to a college degree. Useless—won’t need that to be a princess. I can change a flat tire. No need—there’ll be a driver to do that. Balance my own books? Nope, I’m sure there’s a royal accountant or something.” She clambered to her feet. “The things I need to know to be a princess, no one taught me. How am I supposed to help run a kingdom?”

 

He rose, taking her hands in his. “You learn quick. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that.”

 

DG smiled up at him. “I wish I had your confidence.”

 

He squeezed her fingers. “You do.”

 

She pulled her hands free, snaking her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his chest. She breathed in his scent. “I wish we could stay here.”

 

He slid one hand down her back, along her spine. She snuggled closer under the pressure. “Your sister—”

 

“Not her.” Her voice was muffled against his shirt. “Just us.”

 

She clutched him more tightly, desperate to get close. She turned her face up, rising on her toes to kiss him. It was still new, a little awkward, and then something caught—flared—and he was grasping at her, both of them breathless, soft whimpers of need from her urging him, and then they were against the far wall, safely in darkness, his hands under her shirt, skimming her sides and brushing lightly over cool, sensitive flesh; she could almost feel the groan in his throat, and the headiness of it encouraged her, her hand slipping down and palming him through his trousers, making him break away from her mouth, gasping and hiding his face in her hair, breath hot against her ear.

 

She managed one word: “Please.”

 

His fingers tightened over her ribs; she started to pull away, pull down, leading him to the floor, the sweet hay under her. It prickled, and she laughed softly, low in her throat, he kissed it away, his hands chasing over her, seeking out every bend and dip of her shape, his mouth following his fingertips. Her hands were in his hair, white-golden and soft, and she slid her fingers along the taut cording in his neck, down over his back, as much as she could reach under his shirt, scraping her short nails as she dragged them back out and gripped his shoulders. He shuddered under her touch.

 

He stopped at her jeans, a kiss against her belly, his breath against her skin. His hands were on her thighs, holding her still.

 

“DG…we have to stop.”

 

She shook her head, grabbing at his arm. “No.”

 

He pulled away, hands lingering above her knees. “ _Yes_.”

 

She covered her eyes with her arm, willing her heart to slow down. “ _Why_.”

 

Cain sighed. “We’re in a barn, DG.”

 

She peeped out at him. “So? Better than the back seat of an Oldsmobile.” She didn’t avoid his dark look, sliding her arm above her head to see him fully.

 

“It’s too soon.”

 

She sat up. “Too soon? Don’t I get a say?”

 

He nodded. “So do I.”

 

She rolled her eyes, huffing in frustration. “You and your _morals_.”

 

His hands wrapped around her knees, yanking her toward him. She yelped, eyes widening when he parted her legs and pulled her knees up alongside his hips, leaning over her, his chest barely brushing hers, nearly covering her completely. His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “This what you want?” His hand went to her hip, squeezing once and sliding his hand over her stomach. He tugged at the button of her jeans. “Rutting like animals?”

 

She shook her head. “No, and you know it.” She reached up, her arm around his neck, and pulled herself up, nose-to-nose. “I could get _that_ anywhere.” She grinned at him, pressing a kiss to his chin. She let the smile fall away, turning serious. “And I’m _here_ , instead.” She shoved him, annoyed. “Next time, don’t try scaring me.”

 

He let his forehead rest against hers. Her eyes crossed trying to look at him, and she laughed, tugging at his arms until he sank down against her. He was heavy, but she liked it—liked the weight of him, the way his arms framed her shoulders, his body a shield against the world.

 

She kissed him, again.

 

“DG…sweetheart—”

 

“I wanted it on our terms, not the OZ’s, not my parents’.” She slid her fingers back into his hair, shifting her hips under him. She smiled when he grunted at the movement. “We leave in a few hours, and then—then I’m not just DG, anymore. And you won’t be Cain. I’ll be a princess, and you…I don’t know.” Her hands stilled, the silence stretching out. “Will you stay?” Her voice was small, hopeful. “Over there, I mean. In the OZ.”

 

He raised himself, shifting his weight to one arm and looking down at her. “With you?”

 

She nodded.

 

He lifted his hand to her face, stroking his thumb along her cheek. “If you want.”

 

She pursed her lips. “What do _you_ want?”

 

“I want you happy.”

 

She shifted under him, again, eyes dancing. “You can make me happy.”

 

“DG.” His voice was hard.

 

She rocked her hips, a throaty hum of pleasure escaping when she found something else hard. “You _do_ want me...happy.”

 

Cain grabbed her hip, holding her still. “Damn it, DG—” He sighed, moving away, off of her, and laid back in the hay. He scrubbed his face with his hands, and looked at her, a little weary. “You try my patience, princess, you really do.”

 

She rolled onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “Patience isn’t _always_ a virtue, Cain. Sometimes, it’s just a pain in the ass.”

 

“That so.”

 

She could see he was trying to hide a grin, flashed one of her own in reply. “Yeah.”

 

His humor faded. “You really want this, don’t you.”

 

She scooted closer, resting her hand on his chest. “Yes, Cain.”

 

He turned his head, blinking up at the loft above them. “Not out here. Not in a barn, DG.”

 

“Then we’ll go to my room.”

 

He twined his fingers with hers. “Are you sure?”

 

“Absolutely.” She leaned over, kissed him, and stood. “Come on. We still have to get past Glitch and Dellie.”

 

~*~

 

She was upstairs, alone on her bed, in the dark. Azkadellia had turned in first, hoping to sleep despite her nervous anticipation—she was so eager to go home, but more worried than she wanted to admit as to whether she was actually _welcome_ there. DG, with Glitch’s aid, had reassured her. It was time. Home was waiting.

 

_She_ was waiting.

 

DG knew Cain was waiting for Glitch to be asleep—better to not chance the questions, not tonight—and she strained to hear anything from downstairs.

 

Minutes passed, and then she heard it—almost _felt_ it, really, he was so quiet—a change in pressure, a shift coming from the stairs. She tensed, eyes adjusted to the darkness, the only faint light stealing in from a low-hanging waning moon.

 

He hesitated at the top of the stairs. “Hey, there, princess.”

 

She smiled. “Hey, there, tin man.”

 

He was still in his trousers, his feet bare and his shirt hanging open. He dropped a bundle on her desk; she realized he’d brought a change of clothes. She wondered if he planned to stay the entire night. She hoped he would.

 

A sudden uncertainty overcame her. Here they were, not ten feet separating them, an arranged… _encounter_ …on the verge of taking place, and she was in Disney t-shirt with “Dreams Come True” across her chest.

 

He must’ve noticed something, because he closed the distance between them, stopping short of touching her. “You okay?”

 

She looked up, heart racing a mile a minute, and nodded.

 

He sat down, the edge of the mattress sinking under his weight, and looked out across the room. “DG…there’s no rush. We don’t have to do this.”

 

The heaviness in her gut twisted. “You don’t want to?”

 

He looked back at her over his shoulder. “I won’t lie, princess. I…” He drew in a deep breath. “It’s been a while. I don’t know…I’m not sure how much…” He dropped his head. “You ever want something _too_ much?”

 

She felt hot. “Yeah.”

 

He shifted, turning halfway around, and reached for her. She came to him readily, curling at his side and resting her cheek against his shoulder. His hand threaded into her hair, cradling her skull, and he kissed her once, a gentle press at her temple. His voice was soft. “I don’t want you to regret this, DG.”

 

She turned her head, nuzzling his collarbone. “I won’t.”

 

He leaned back, away from her, and met her eyes. She didn’t say anything, just smiled at him, and he kissed her—fully and deeply, the hand in her hair clenching briefly before sliding free and guiding her down, down against the blankets and pillows, breaking from her only to ease his entire body onto the bed. She lay still, letting him touch her, his hands gliding over her exposed legs, then up and under her shirt, skittering away momentarily when he found only bare skin beneath—then he sighed by her ear and pushed the shirt up, and she decided to shed it, entirely, making him swear under his breath and kiss her, again.

 

She tugged at his shirt, and he released her long enough to take it off, dropping it in the floor and gathering her close, skin to skin, his mouth at her throat, lips and tongue hot on her, and she was twisting under him, his hand sliding down, caressing and testing and then his fingers were _inside_ —and he really _was_ swearing, tense and taut as a bowstring, his jaw working against the words that threatened to come out, and she was helpless, gasping against his shoulder, her hips rocking against his hand, and he was whispering, pleading—“slow down, slow down”—and she was fighting it, holding back, her hands covering her face when he withdrew.

 

She tried to will her heart to calmness, chancing a look at him. He was standing by the bed, unfastening his belt and sliding his trousers over his hips, and she looked away. She stared up at the ceiling, the rafters almost invisible in the darkness, and the bed shifted when he rejoined her. She met his eyes, nodding again at the question there, and parted her legs.

 

He reached for her, pulling her upright and wrapping his arms around her, broad hands touching and warming her all over, whispering against her skin, pressing soft kisses to everything he could touch with his lips.

 

She led him down, that time, shoving pillows aside and stretching out under him, her hands wandering everywhere _she_ could reach, laughing against his bicep when he gasped and shook after she wrapped her fingers around him. He froze, eyes shut, breath ragged, and asked her to stop. She nipped at him, smiling and squeezing him once before letting him go. The rush went to her head, and she shimmied lower in the bed, pressing kisses to his chest and catching him between her thighs, against her heat, and dragged her fingers up along his side, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him down against her.

 

He kissed her throat, rested his head in the crook of her neck, and pushed inside.

 

DG tightened her hold around his neck, pressing kisses to the side of his face. “Cain—Cain, look at me.”

 

He raised his head, eyes lost in the dimness.

 

She traced the lines of his jaw, fingers ghosting over cheekbones and nose, stopping at his lips. She felt the tears welling up, suddenly burying her face against his neck, overwhelmed.

 

He began moving over her, slowly at first, still touching her gently, one hand palming her breasts, over her heart, down over her belly and beyond. He shifted, drawing her knees up, and her breath hitched, the pressure coiling and building, her nerves catching fire, and he was hard inside and fast, and she was folding in on herself, a fine point of white-hot heat, and he was asking—begging—for her to come apart, and she was trying, so close, the heat almost painful, and then he was more than she could take—and she was burning, a quick catch, a flashpoint—


	23. Day One hundred-and-seventy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Selected days from the "banishment" of Azkadellia to the Other Side, her sister in tow, with Cain as their guardian.

He was sleeping on his stomach, stretched across the bed, the very edge of dawn highlighting his hair.

 

DG wanted to keep him here, just like this—one arm hanging off the side, nose buried in the blanket, relaxed and free in his nakedness. She looked at the clock, the ever-brightening light, and slid her hand up his back.

 

Cain hmmm’d at the touch, breathing deep and blinking slowly. His brow furrowed, and he rolled over. He smiled at her, tousled hair and t-shirt riding up around her hips. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

 

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed. She smiled back at him, crawling close and nestling into his side. They lay there, watching the room grow lighter.

 

“Not much time.”

 

She nodded. “I know.”

 

He raised himself up on his arms. “DG?” His eyes flickered downward and up again.

 

She slid over, into the middle of the bed, and fought down the words. “Yes.”

 

He wasted no time, sliding into her in one go, hot words in her ear and fingers stroking, pushing her along, watching her arch and quiver in the golden light. She came, struggling to breathe, tears lining her temples, clutching at him. He kissed away the tears and the breathlessness, and held her until they heard someone moving around the rooms below.

 

“Cain?”

 

He looked at her, eyes painfully bright and blue.

 

“This isn’t it, is it?”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t reckon anything’ll keep me from you, now.”

 

She almost laughed. He wiped the tears away, again.

 

“You okay, darlin’?”

 

“I’m…happy. And scared. And _worried_.”

 

“I know, sweetheart.” He tilted her face up. “I want you to do something for me.”

 

Her brow furrowed, confused. “What?”

 

He studied her face, looking as though he was trying to frame it in his memory. “If you get scared, you come to me. If something’s worrying you, tell me.”

 

“And if I’m happy?”

 

She saw him bite back another grin. “Well, I hope I’m already there for that.”

 

~*~

 

They had packed their things as securely as they could manage; Cain and DG had led Charlie to the fence separating their land from the Norman’s, knocking down some boards before he slapped the horse’s rump and freed him in their pasture. He didn’t figure Charlie would come back that way for a while, and Mrs. Norman would probably spot him long before then.

 

Not that they would know.

 

Glitch was waiting in the field when they returned, Azkadellia bundled in a long coat, standing very close to him. Her eyes were red, and she looked over Number 39 with a wistful face.

 

DG matched her look. “It’s not been bad, has it, Dellie?”

 

Her sister met her eyes. “It’s been wonderful, DG. I’ve been happy here.” She took DG’s hand. “But I’m ready to go home. I want to see Mother and Father. I want to see what _my_ future holds.” She looked pointedly at Cain. “And yours, too.”

 

DG squeezed her hand. “Let’s go, then.”

 

They stood back, DG reaching for Cain’s hand as Glitch called up the travel storm. The twisting, growling winds consumed boxes and two trunks before drawing closer to them.

 

Ambrose turned to Azkadellia, extending a hand and bowing, as if preparing to lead her onto a dance floor. “Princess?”

 

She smiled, slipping her hand into his, and he spun her, his arm around her waist, her face tucked into his shoulder, directly into the twister.

 

They were gone.

 

The storm hovered, waiting.

 

DG looked at Cain. His fingers tightened around hers, and he tipped his hat. “You ready, sweetheart?”

 

She grinned. “Lead me on, tin man.”

 

They stepped into the wind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...story...came about after chatting with a very good friend of mine. The conversation evolved into a fic exchange, and I wrote this entirely for her (just as she wrote a piece for me). I spent several nights posting segments to her via email and Facebook chat, all while eagerly awaiting her own story's updates. It was a great deal of fun to do, and look forward to trying it again, someday. I hope you've enjoyed the results, as well.


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